


Lacuna

by seanchaidh



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seanchaidh/pseuds/seanchaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a head injury regresses McCoy’s memory, Kirk wonders what that means for their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacuna

**Author's Note:**

> For the km_anthology prompt, First Time. I need to acknowledge the help and support of several people for this fic. Many thanks for the brainstorming with medeira, kronos999 and paraka over Korean food; to lauriegilbert and abigail89 for the betas; and enkanowen for walking me through the character problems and the last minute betaing too. Hypos and mint juleps (or white wine) for all!

Jim kept the tight, polite smile on his face all the way from Sickbay to his quarters, and even managed a few short exchanges with passing crewmen. He held it together until the door was safely shut behind him; not too bad for a guy who felt like his heart was going through a meat grinder. He shuddered and tore off his gold tunic, tossing it away so he could slump in his chair.

What a goddamn mess of a day. They'd been on the surface of Talthus III when an earthquake had hit, and they'd been too close to one of the collapsing buildings. Jim had taken a stone to the arm, fracturing his forearm, but one chunk had clipped Bones right across the temple. By the time they'd gotten him aboard, the lump was the size of Jim's fist.

Even Jim knew that meant one hell of a concussion, but when Bones had woken up, confused and then panicked at the realization he was on a *fucking starship,* it was a pretty good clue something else was wrong.

"Amnesia," M'Benga had informed Jim after the fact. "It's only one of the symptoms Leonard will be experiencing right now. He'll have head pain for several days, dizziness, and he'll be prone to mood swings. We'll do what we can and treat each individual complaint, but it'll take time before he'll be able to return to duty."

Jim recalled the mottled bruising already discoloring Bones' face, and the alarm in his hazel eyes as he'd taken in the details around him. There'd been no recognition, and he'd yanked his hand away from Jim's grasp.

"How extensive is the memory loss?" Jim had the feeling he already had a good idea.

"He knows who he is," M'Benga said, and continued despite Jim's initial sigh of relief. "As far as he's concerned, however, it's 2249. He's a medical intern, and there's a six month old baby at home."

"And he's still afraid of flying," Jim had murmured.

"That would be his current preoccupation," M'Benga agreed.

And now, in the privacy of his darkened quarters, Jim tried to resolve himself to the current situation where his best friend didn't know who he was. Their shared history hadn't happened yet to the version of Leonard McCoy who was occupying the biobed in his future self's Sickbay. After a day which would have normally ended with a comfort fuck with Bones in his bed, Jim was now facing a night alone.

~~~

On a good day, Leonard McCoy's moods were mercurial, but in the aftermath of the concussion, he was all over the emotional map. That much Jim heard from the Sickbay staff, mostly from Christine Chapel who was the only one who could reason with Bones in any mood. While it was expected, Jim wasn't really sure he wanted to be down in the medical bay to experience the mood swings for himself.

He did go down at the end of his shift, and found a scowling Bones sitting up on the biobed. The bruising had faded a bit, and while the expression wasn't anything new, Jim wasn't used to quite that level of intensity. The lack of recognition, too, left something to be desired.

"Do you have to walk so loud?" Bones demanded.

Jim eased himself carefully into his chair. "Sorry, I'll be careful when I leave."

That seemed to earn him a point in Bones' esteem. "So who the hell are you? Not a medic, I assume."

"Jim Kirk, we went to the Academy together," Jim said, and offered his hand. Bones looked at it for a moment and reluctantly shook it. "We met on the shuttle heading in, actually. I calmed you down, and you gave me booze."

Bones peered at him for a long moment. "That's all right, I suppose. So I'm seriously on a starship."

"The Enterprise," Jim confirmed. "We're the 'fleet's flagship, and I'm the captain."

"And what am I, the first mate?" Bones muttered.

The innocent choice of words made Jim force down a nervous laugh. "No, you're the chief surgeon."

"So I did end up specializing after all," Bones said, and the scowl eased into something more open. It wasn't an expression Jim saw very often. "I've been thinking about giving it all up and just being a country doctor or something."

"You're, what, twenty-two?" Jim hedged, which was a weird idea because his Bones was thirty-five. "Why the hurry?"

"Because I've got my little girl at home," Bones said. "She's just a baby now, but I'd like to get something stable awfully soon."

The earnest tone hadn't changed all that much, but the proud smile had grown wistful over the years. Jim nodded for a moment. "Joanna."

"You know about her?" Bones said, and it was like he was really looking at Jim for the first time.

Jim nodded again. "I've met her a few times. She's a good kid. She's got your eyes, and thankfully not your temper."

That got a laugh out of Bones, who then groaned and held his head pitifully. "Don't make me laugh again."

"Sorry," Jim murmured.

The conversation eased for a few minutes as the color came back to Bones' face, though he winced a few times when a nurse walked by. Finally, Bones dropped his hands back down to his lap and asked the question Jim didn’t really want to answer. "I know a few years have gone by. How old is she now?"

Jim kept his voice pitched low. "Thirteen."

"Thirteen," Bones murmured, and it was clear from his tone he couldn't imagine it. "So tell me, Jim Kirk, why am I up here on a goddamned starship? I must have lost my mind at some point."

"No, but you know, we've been talking for a while," Jim hedged, and he leaned closer. "It'll be better if you have rest first before we continue this conversation."

"I didn't think they allowed cowards to be starship captains," Bones snapped, back to being pissed off and glaring. While this was more familiar territory, Jim wasn't going to let the current tangent continue.

"There's not a lot about Starfleet you understand right now," Jim began, pulling himself out of his chair and getting to his feet. "That's fine, but I do know you. The Leonard McCoy I know would never have said something like that. I'll come back later."

He left McCoy there -- because really, Bones had only come into being at the age of twenty-eight -- and gave Chapel a curt nod on his way out. From her expression, he knew she’d have a word with McCoy afterward. Good.

~~~

After a restless night and an irritable shift on the bridge, Jim came back to Sickbay to find a contrite Leonard McCoy waiting for him. He didn't say anything after their initial greeting until Jim was settled next to him.

"What I said was uncalled for," McCoy began, meeting Jim’s gaze and then glancing away. "I had a chat with Nurse Chapel afterward, and she helped me see the errors of my ways. I guess I'm just not adjusting well to the current situation."

Jim allowed himself to smile. "I've had a few concussions myself, I know how it messes up your head."

"Even gotten amnesia before?" McCoy wondered.

"Can't remember," Jim said.

McCoy's wide, toothy smile was one Jim had only seen once or twice from Bones. "Good one."

"Learned from the best," Jim told him, pleased to see the tension eased. "But seriously, how are you today?"

"It's like I've had a belt tied around my skull," McCoy said, rubbing between his eyebrows again, "and sometime this morning, I got to loosen it by one notch. My head might fall off otherwise, though since the room stopped moving about an hour ago, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Do you think you've remembered anything yet?" Jim asked.

"About who I'm supposed to be now?" McCoy was about to shake his head but stopped himself before he started. He shrugged a bit instead. "No. On the bright side, I remember everything we discussed yesterday, so my brain's not completely scrambled. That's something, right?"

"Good, I wasn't in the mood to start all over again." He arranged himself into a more comfortable position in his chair, and then considered McCoy for a few moments. "I have a little surprise for you."

At McCoy's raised brow, Jim slid over a holoframe with a small smile and waited for the reaction. He got it a few seconds later as McCoy studied the image, and then his eyes widened in delayed recognition. "Oh, my god. That's Joanna?"

Normally sitting on Bones’ desk, it was one of Jim’s favorite pictures. It was a snapshot from their last shore leave on Earth, taken just moments after Joanna had thrown herself into her father's arms. The two of them had almost identical grins, pausing just long enough for Jim to get the image, and then it was just the two of them again as Bones kept exclaiming over and over just how much she'd grown over the last few months. The top of her head was almost level with Bones' shoulders, and Jim suspected she still had an inch or so to go.

“She’s twelve and a half there,” Jim said, “but yeah, that’s your kid.”

“And to think she was only this big the last time I saw her,” McCoy said softly, and mimed a roughly baby-sized space with his hands. He shook his head, in awe. “And I’ve missed everything.”

“The memories are still there,” Jim told him. “It’ll come back to you, don’t worry. In the meantime, do you want to continue yesterday’s conversation?"

"Please," McCoy said, and sat up a bit more, still gripping the holoframe as he surveyed the room. "Is Nurse Chapel working right now?"

"I don't think so, why?"

Something interesting flickered over McCoy's features. "She's a little intimidating."

Jim laughed and rested his hand on McCoy's forearm. "That's why you insisted she stay on staff. If we end up arguing again, though, you'll have to defend yourself on your own."

"And you call yourself my friend," McCoy grumbled, and didn't pull away from Jim's touch. He even patted Jim once or twice with his other hand before reclining again on the biobed. "So, my baby girl's a teenager, and you were about to explain why I'm out here. This almost feels like cheating."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked. “The Bones I know is thirty-five years old. The decisions you're thinking about making have already happened. There’s nothing you can possibly cheat on."

"I suppose. It's not like I'll be going back with a cheat sheet," McCoy said, and then he frowned. "Did you just call me Bones?"

It took a moment for Jim to review his last phrase, and yeah, the nickname had slipped in. He shrugged, not contrite in the least. "Yeah, it's a habit. Bones is my nickname for you, or rather, my you."

"What the hell did I do to earn that?" McCoy asked, both eyebrows arched and looking amused. "I've gotten Plum before, not to mention Lenny. But Bones?"

"From Sawbones," Jim said.

"Of course." Nodding a few times, McCoy looked to be mulling something over. "You know, if it helps you, I don't think it would bother me too much if you call me Bones."

The offer left Jim speechless for a moment, and slightly uncomfortable. He finally tried for a smile, and might have made it convincing. "That's not what you said to me the first time."

"As far as I’m concerned, that hasn't happened yet," McCoy reminded him, almost matching the expression. "So, Jim Kirk, explain to me why the hell I'm in space when I can't even get on a shuttle without throwing up."

This time, Jim knew he wasn't forcing a smile. "It's amazing what determination and a good therapist can do."

"Oh." At the news, McCoy frowned. "I've toyed with the idea, but never figured it was worth the effort. Plus, I don't have a lot of extra time. So I finally followed through?"

"There was a bit of extra motivation," Jim added, and he was glad he had no shame because otherwise he'd be blushing.

"Right, joining Starfleet," McCoy said. "I've been thinking about that since you told me yesterday. I can't understand why I'd want to abandon my kid and whatever career I had on Earth to do this. Hell, I've talked to Starfleet recruiters before. I know what Starfleet surgeons get paid."

At the bitter tone slipping into the conversation, Jim held up his hand. "I'm going to make one thing clear before we continue. You don't get to judge. A hell of a lot of things can happen in thirteen years, things you can't even imagine, but the one thing you need to realize is that Bones has done his best for his kid despite everything. Would he do things differently? Probably, though he doesn't like rehashing the past, but he did what he could. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," McCoy said, his lip slowly uncurling from the beginning of a sneer. "So what happened then?"

This was exactly one of the things Jim had discussed with M'Benga, about bringing McCoy's attention to details that could unsettle him or cause distress. From Jim's point of view, if McCoy was handling the knowledge he was in space with relative grace, everything else was a virtual picnic. He just hoped he wasn't wrong about his assumption.

"You and Jocelyn don't work out," Jim said quietly, and immediately, he saw McCoy's eyes widen. "You're both adults, you both had a hand in it, but it didn't end well. She took everything, and Joanna went with her. When I met Bones, he was looking for a fresh start after hitting absolute bottom. Starfleet was his answer."

It took a few tries for McCoy to find something to say, and it sounded half-hearted. "Jocelyn was the best thing to happen to me."

"There’s more to your life, don't sweat it," Jim said. "When I was twenty-two, I joined Starfleet, and that was only after Pike dared me to do something better with my life. So trust me when I tell you there's more to come, and that the best thing that ever happened to you is your kid."

"Okay," McCoy said quietly, and Jim knew immediately he had to lighten the mood.

"And in not-so-close second place is me." He meant it to be joking, but there were so many layers of truth, Jim didn't care how many McCoy understood. "I owe a lot to you, actually."

McCoy studied him intensely as he thought through something. Jim met the hazel gaze evenly, willing to give McCoy all the time he needed to process the situation. He knew it was a lot of information, and even if there weren't the lingering mood swings, Jim wasn't sure what how he'd react in the end.

"I need a drink," McCoy finally decided.

"Not a good mix with a concussion, sadly," Jim said, "but when M'Benga gives you the all-clear, I've got your favorite bourbon in my quarters."

"Speaking of motivations," McCoy laughed softly, but then his expression sobered as he looked thoughtful. Given his disorientation, though, he was more befuddled. "You know, I should write a paper on this, though I'm not sure what approach to take. I mean, if I think about it hard enough and I don't think I can right now, who I am now is in your Bones, so I am sort of him. Though after this conversation, I'm not even sure if I'm the Leonard McCoy I thought I was anymore either."

Jim blinked. "Don't hurt yourself."

"No kidding. I'm a doctor, not a philosopher," McCoy said, his mouth quirking into a familiar smirk. "At least, not when I'm sober."

~~~

Over the next few days, Jim found himself being lulled into a new routine that barely distracted from missing Bones. It suited the times, since the Enterprise had been assigned to patrolling a secure area of Federation space. Jim had the luxury of working the alpha shift, and then handing the conn over to Spock or Scotty so he could spend several hours a day in McCoy's company.

In his less generous moments, Jim wondered if this was what it felt like to be dying of thirst, and staring at a cup of water separated by a pane of glass. Because as the bruises paled and faded on McCoy's face, and as his behavior became less erratic, Jim found himself watching for the details that made this man different from his friend.

Some of changes had been apparent from the start, but it was more than a lack of knowledge about details and people. McCoy had a better tolerance for bullshit than Bones, but he also had a cockiness about him that still surprised Jim when he saw it in action.

Five days after the earthquake, M'Benga declared the concussion mostly healed, but there still hadn't been a breakthrough with the amnesia. While McCoy was occupied with Chapel, M'Benga had pulled Jim aside into Bones' office.

"Give him time," M'Benga had cautioned. "We can't predict how his memories will return, but it's safe to say that it'll be gradual. I realize you're frustrated, Captain --" and oh, the doctor had no idea -- "but we all are. The best we can do is help him establish a new routine, as you've already done. Nurse Chapel right now is giving him a job description since we could always use the extra hands, and it'll keep him out of trouble. Just remember, be patient."

Jim was learning to hate that word, but he kept up the appearance as he walked McCoy to Bones' quarters. It probably wasn't the best idea to leave him alone after that, but Jim's gaze kept returning to those lips. He didn't think McCoy noticed, and it took a concentrated effort not to steal a goodnight kiss.

The next night wasn't much better, and Jim found himself wanting to resent McCoy for being there instead of Bones. They were sitting in the mess, and Sulu had joined them and had McCoy engaged in a discussion on botany. They were getting on like a house on fire, and so, confident McCoy was in good hands, Jim made his excuses and fled.

He wasn't sulking in his quarters; he had reports to write.

Someone rang the doorchime just before 2000 hours, and Jim rubbed at his eyes, welcoming the interruption. The requisition form could wait another few minutes. He pushed his chair from the desk and called to his visitor to enter.

It was McCoy, who stepped inside with a hesitant look. "Am I bothering you?"

"Not especially," Jim said, and hoped that didn't sound as callous as he thought. "The thing that sucks about being captain is that there's no fixed hours."

"Sounds like you need a better work-life balance to me," McCoy quipped, but Jim realized a moment later than the humor wasn't reaching his eyes. Something was up, and Jim powered down his screen to give the other man his entire focus. "Anyway, you missed a bit of entertainment after you left. The Russian kid kept trying to convince me that I'm actually from the other Georgia."

Jim snickered for a moment. "That would be Chekov. You've got to admire his patriotism."

Making a vague noise of agreement, McCoy gestured to the living room set. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Go for it," Jim said as he pushed himself away from the computer. He started toward the sofa, and paused with a smile when he saw McCoy getting comfortable in Bones' usual spot. "I also seem to remember promising you a drink a few days ago. Interested?"

A smile played on McCoy's lips. "It would be rude of me to refuse."

"Glad to see one thing hasn't changed," Jim laughed as he took the steps over to his small bar. The motions were easy as he gathered the glasses, the ice and the bottle of bourbon. He was about to pour everything from habit when he paused. "My Bones likes his neat."

McCoy shook his head. "On the rocks, but not too much."

"Coming right up." After that, it was a matter of pouring the bourbon and then getting a brandy for himself. "So what can I do for you, Leonard?"

There was a pause lasting a good ten seconds, long enough for Jim to look up as he finished recorking the brandy. McCoy sat with his legs stretched out, and he was looking at a fixed point somewhere across the room. When he realized he was being addressed, McCoy's cheeks reddened a little.

"I was hoping to talk to you a little more," McCoy began, a cautious note in his voice. "I also wanted to tell you I appreciate what you've tried to do for me so far, as far as getting my memory back. The crew, too, but you've been good to me."

Jim shrugged as he brought the drinks over. "I can't say it's exactly selfless, you know."

"I guess," McCoy said as he accepted the glass.

"It really isn't." Jim favored him with a smile and raised his drink, clinking the two glasses together gently. "To Bones."

McCoy echoed the toast, and sipped the bourbon with an appreciative sound. "He's got good taste."

"I know," Jim said. "So, again, what can I do for you?"

"Well, it's been argued I should be trying to jog my memory with familiar things," McCoy said. "You know this, and I agree with it, too. I've been to my quarters now, and to the regular places I'd be expected to be. Sickbay, the mess, even the bridge. I still don't know why I'd spend time up there, incidentally."

"You like it, believe it or not," Jim said, and didn't mention that it was a good way to them to see each other during the day. "You handled that well, by the way."

Shrugging at the words, McCoy continued. "I think seeing the stars like that was the first time I really realized what's going on in my head. I should've been afraid, but I wasn't."

"Because Bones isn't afraid anymore," Jim said, understanding.

"Yeah, exactly." Taking another sip, McCoy considered his next words. "Anyway, I also reckon that if you've got my favorite bourbon, I probably spend a lot of time over here."

Jim nodded and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. A large mouthful of brandy helped. "It's also the reason why you've got Saurian brandy in your quarters."

"Then that explains what I remembered," McCoy said, and his tone was so casual, Jim almost missed it.

"What do you remember?" It was the most incredible feeling as he stared, waiting for more details, as McCoy favored him with an amused smile.

"It's not much," he began, "because right now, there's so much stirring in my head, it's the most frustrating thing I can remember experiencing. You know when you're trying to remember something but it's on the tip of your tongue? My life is on the tip of my tongue."

Fantasizing at that particular imagery wasn't an option at the moment, so Jim instead nodded patiently. "So what was it?"

"It was you," McCoy said. "I'm pretty sure it was, it's hard to mistake the color of your eyes. And you had your arms here --" and he gestured to his upper arms "--and you had me pressed against the wall. You were grinning, and you were about to kiss me. That's it."

That could be any particular night when Jim felt frisky, but it was something. "So your memory's starting to come back."

"I'd say that's a good sign," McCoy said, "and this leads me to my next question. When were you going to tell me that there's something between us?"

Jim paused for a long time, eyeing his drink and then the floor, as he thought how to word his thoughts. They still came out sounded half-hearted. "It never felt like the right time."

"No such thing," McCoy told him with a wry smile. "Anyway, I was in the process of figuring it out, anyway. I hadn't gotten to the personal logs yet, but I did find the gold command tunic in my closet. I was going to ask you about that."

"Ah." Jim scratched his jaw and couldn't help the laugh. "So that's where it went."

The look on McCoy's face, when Jim finally looked, was an interesting mixture of fondness and exasperation. "So a part of me understands why you may have chosen to withhold that fact. You don't want to overwhelm the amnesiac, which is far, but you already told me tha tmy marriage is going to end in a divorce, and I'll lose my baby girl."

Jim tried to review everything he'd mentioned, and he was damn sure he'd never gone into that amount of detail. "I know I didn't tell you that."

"No, but I filled in the blanks when I read my personnel file," McCoy said as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass for several moments. "Look, Jim, I could be an absolute ass and demand an explanation for why you find it so difficult to articulate 'hey, you're my boyfriend.' But I also realize that this situation as hard on you as it is on me. Hell, harder, because anyone with eyes can see that you're missing him."

"Yes." Jim wanted to keep it simple, because there wasn't much to say other than that, and confessions of undying love weren't his style. He shifted to look at McCoy, who was still slouched comfortably, legs extended, with the glass and hands resting on his thighs. McCoy was staring across the room, eyes wide and contemplative, and he looked so much like Bones that Jim had to resist the urge to touch.

"I wish I were him," McCoy continued, taking a lazy sip after. "I don't know what to make of myself. The Leonard McCoy I represent doesn't really exist. I'm not the twenty-two year old intern who took a blow to the head and passed out during rounds thirteen years ago. I'm definitely not the thirty-five year old who's your Chief Medical Officer and boyfriend."

"Definitely not," Jim echoed. "Bones would never call himself my boyfriend. He'd say it sounds like something Joanna would say."

"I wouldn't know about that," McCoy said slowly. "Anyway, the problem is that I don't even know what'll become of me when I do remember completely. Does this aspect of my consciousness disappear, or do the experiences of the last few days integrate into the whole of who Leonard McCoy is now? Who the hell knows."

"We haven't had nearly enough booze to get this philosophical," Jim said, and nudged McCoy with his knee. "I don't know about you, but I'm entirely too sober for this conversation."

McCoy eyed his bourbon and then finished it off. "I wouldn't say no to more."

Handing over his glass for safekeeping, Jim got up to bring the bottles over. He settled next to McCoy again and poured the drinks, and kept the bottles on the floor for easy access. He was getting a deja vu to their academy days when they would sprawl together in their dorm and talk over a bottle of anything handy.

The thought must have been on McCoy's mind, as he watched Jim pour out the second drink. "This is how we talk, right? Side by side, with our drinks. Even when we were just friends."

"Yeah, it is," Jim said. "Is that something else you remember?"

Frowning for a moment, McCoy finally had to shrug. "It's more of a hunch, I guess. I don't think everything's coming back cleanly. I mean, the kiss was a pretty complete moment, but it didn't have context. I'm noticing tonight that I'm getting sensory memories, too. The feel of your thigh against mine, it just feels right."

"Really." At the words, Jim looked down and brushed his fingers carefully where their legs were touching. He felt McCoy shiver next to him.

He knew McCoy was staring at him, but Jim wanted to play coy for a few more minutes.

"So," McCoy continued after clearing his throat. "From what I read, we've known each other for seven years."

"Seven years in August." That sounded impressive, now that Jim voiced it aloud. "I guess that should be a lucky number or something."

"I don't believe in luck," McCoy snorted.

It was Jim's turn to smile. "I know. You're a doctor, not a statistician."

"Damn right." Flashing a bit of teeth this time, McCoy paused to take a large sip of bourbon. "So when did we get together, then?"

"The middle of second semester," Jim said. "It wasn't anything formal. I certainly didn't plan it, and you just went along with me. It just sort of happened."

"That early?" McCoy seemed surprised. "But I got divorced the previous summer."

"I suspect that was more of a formality than anything else," Jim said, "and anyway, you and I were convenient. We liked each other, and we were both a safe option. You weren't ready to trust anyone else but me, and you were a very welcome option in my life. We discovered we were good for each other."

"Must have been damn good," McCoy murmured.

"I had you from the first kiss," Jim said, well aware he was boasting.

"Really." McCoy arched his brow, the expression so *Bones* that Jim felt an actual ache that had nothing to do with his groin, though that was also interested. "That must have been something."

"Oh, but it was," Jim promised, half-mocking Bones' accent as he pretended to leer.

"Then show me."

Those words made Jim sit upright, and a sudden wet spot on his thigh reminded him that he still had brandy in his glass. Quickly tossing it back before setting the glass on the floor, Jim faced McCoy with semi-mixed feelings. He focused on McCoy's lips for several seconds, then deliberately looked up to meet those curious hazel eyes.

"You sure?"

McCoy huffed. "Do you need a written waiver?"

Loving the bite in those words, Jim tried not to smile too much as he leaned into McCoy's space to press their lips together. For a few moments, his senses were confused, because McCoy smelled like Bones and certainly felt right, but he wasn't kissing the way Bones did. It was too hesitant, almost careful, and Jim sighed softly as he ran his fingers up into McCoy's hair.

"Can I give you a bit of advice?" Jim asked, as his fingers stroked the back of McCoy's head, and there, he got the reaction he wanted. Like a big cat, McCoy pressed back into Jim's touch, his eyes sliding half shut with a contented moan. "Right now, I know you better than you know yourself. Relax, okay?"

He pressed in as McCoy nodded, and this time, it was felt better. Jim made a noise of approval, and clambered over his lap and cornered him against the side of the sofa. McCoy's arms were around him, grasping the fabric of Jim's black undershirt as Jim fell into place. They kissed until they forgot how to breathe, and Jim pulled back, unable to hide his grin.

"How about that?" he asked.

"I think I'm beginning to understand," McCoy said, his voice sounding strangely pitched. Jim felt the reason for it straining against him, and it was hard to resist the temptation not to grind against his erection. "You know, too bad my head's not a computer. Then you could reprogram it the way you did with the Kobayashi Maru and all would be well."

Jim blinked. "Like the what?"

"The Kobayashi Maru," McCoy said, as he leaned in to press lips against Jim's throat.

"And what would that be?" Jim said, feeling his pulse speed up and wondering if McCoy could feel that.

McCoy paused, and rested his head under Jim's jaw. "The no-win-scenario test you were so goddamn obsessed with. Every cadet who wants to graduate in the command stream goes through it. You just had to be the cocky asshole who went through it three times."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just..." And then McCoy snorted. "No, no way. You are not comparing me to Snow White, Jim. You are not curing my amnesia just by kissing me. In no reality are you anything like Prince Charming."

"You'd know, you're the one who read the story out loud," Jim said, laughing. "And anyway, I think that story needs updating for an adult audience."

"Is that so?" The mock-scowl he got was more Bones than McCoy, just from the sparkle in his eyes, and Jim couldn't help the stupid smile that had to be taking over his face. "And how would it go?"

This was way too tempting, and Jim gave in. "Once upon a time, there were two buddies, Bones and Jim. They lived in a place called San Francisco and were studying to be Starfleet officers. There was just one problem, though, because Bones was terrified of flying. So Jim was sneaky, and arranged for Bones to get flying lessons so he could work through that little problem."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a little problem," McCoy muttered, or at least tried to before Jim pressed his finger firmly on his lips.

"My story," Jim said.

The look he got wasn't quite apologetic as McCoy tried to mouth "sorry" around Jim's finger.

"Now where was I?" Jim didn't ease the pressure from McCoy's lips until he was certain he wouldn't get a reply, and then he tapped the pout of his lower lip. "Right. Well, it took a lot of convincing, but finally Bones agreed to go on the shuttle. Jim had to hold his hand the first time, but as he got more confident, Bones went on his own. And then finally, one day in the middle of second semester, Bones got to fly on his own. Jim knew that was the plan, and he was going to take Bones out for drinks that night. That's not what happened."

McCoy quirked his eyebrow in question, and Jim leaned down to press a kiss to it before continuing.

"See, when Bones came home, he was on an adrenaline high. He was almost glowing with his excitement, which is saying a lot for Bones. Jim didn't even get a chance to speak, because Bones had grabbed hold of his jacket and then they were kissing." Jim grinned in memory, and then looked down as he felt McCoy's lips suddenly close around his finger. He moaned softly as it was sucked in. "And no, that's not what happened next, but I like it."

"This doesn't sound anything like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White," McCoy said after he let Jim's finger go, his lower lip glistening in the low lights.

"No?" Jim leaned in again and kissed him gently. "Well, there's more to the story, but I think there are better places to tell this story than my sofa."

"Damn right," McCoy said, nodding quickly, and he pushed Jim away from him with enough warning so he didn't fall over on his ass. A second later, they were both on their feet and facing each other, and Jim really recognized the expression on his face.

"Bones?" he asked.

He got a half-smile in reply. "Not quite, but getting there."

"Good," Jim said, and then he was kissing him again as he pushed him back until they were passing the threshold into the bedroom, and finally onto the mattress. Bones went down first, and Jim sprawled over him, smirking. "Now, where was I?"

"I have an idea," McCoy said, reaching up to cup his face for a hungry kiss. "Less story, more action."

"That's not the point of this," Jim chided, grasping his wrists and bringing them down to the bed, framing his head. On a whim, he leaned in and kissed Bones' temple. "I haven't gotten to the part where Jim woke up Sleeping Beauty."

McCoy's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Did you just call my dick Sleeping Beauty?"

"Maybe?" Jim ground himself against Bones for a moment. "Does that make it feel better?"

"Well, it's damn awake, that's for sure," McCoy groaned. "I remember what happened next."

"Then tell me." The three words weren't quite an order, but it was close.

"So I kissed you," he began, shoving at Jim's hold on his hands, but not budging more than a fraction of an inch. If anything, that made him harder against Jim’s thigh. "Then when you were nice and frustrated, I knelt down and sucked you off."

"And you were good at it, too," Jim said, and then he couldn't help the challenge. "Do you think that's something you forgot with the amnesia? Maybe you should give it a try."

Bones rolled his eyes. "No, I'd imagine that's just fine, thank you. You weren't exactly my first. Besides, I liked what came afterward."

"And what was that?" Jim asked.

"Listen very carefully," Bones said. "First, you get the lube. Second, fuck me. Third, do it again. Can you handle that?"

This was a situation where actions meant more than words. Releasing McCoy's hands, Jim reached for the bottle and hurried through the steps: squirt, slick, and prepare. He found himself being extra mindful as he prepared Bones, and listened to his moans and watched the expressions crossing his face. Just an hour ago, he wasn't sure he'd be experiencing this ever again.

So he took a few extra moments, arranging Bones' legs so one was over his shoulder, and smoothed his hands over his hips. He met Bones' frustrated gaze, smiled, and slid home.


End file.
